The old cinder-block building is not much to look at from the outside. In fact, things don’t get that much better inside. But behind the tattered screen door at Doe’s Eat Place lies more than a half-century of history and tradition that helped give this small Mississippi Delta town national recognition.
The former honky-tonk, located in a rather seedy area on the edge of downtown that used to be Greenville’s thriving black community, has long been a local favorite for its hot tamales and 4-pound sirloin steaks. The rest of America only found out about it a decade ago when President Bill Clinton was often seen jogging in a Doe’s T-shirt.
While Clinton never visited the Greenville restaurant, he was a regular at its sister restaurant in Little Rock, Ark.
Since then, celebrities and the well-to-do, sometimes adorned in mink coats and sparkling diamonds, have flocked to Doe’s, parking their limousines and luxury cars along the curb on Nelson Street, where storefront buildings, churches and corner drug dealers all seem to peacefully co-exist.
According to Dominick “Doe” Signa Jr., who inherited the restaurant from his father, Dominick “Big Doe” Signa Sr., notable guests have included Liza Minnelli, Bob Dylan, Roy Rogers, George Clooney and Willie Nelson. The founding Doe retired in 1974 and died in 1987.
“For some reason people have always liked this little old place,” Signa said. “I don’t really know what the deal is. . . . The food is pretty good, but I think the real reason is that there are not many places like this around anymore. It’s a real hole in the wall.”
Recipe for success
The Doe’s formula has spread to other areas. While the franchise that opened in the Georgetown section of Washington closed after Clinton left the White House, there is one in Oxford run by Signa’s brother, Charles.
Arkansas has four of the restaurants, with a fifth scheduled to open soon in Ft. Smith. The family said it gets regular inquiries from people across the U.S. wanting to open a franchise.
Still, there is nothing like the original, where customers see close up how a restaurant is run–sometimes too close. Though the restaurant holds about 115 people, the best seats are in the kitchen, a big room in the back with uneven floors, tables dressed with plastic tablecloths and dishes that do not match, and a gigantic black stove, covered with crusty black grease.
The waitresses and cooks chat with patrons, giving history lessons about Doe’s to anyone who has not heard the stories before, as they peel and slice potatoes before dropping them into cast iron skillets filled with bubbling hot grease.
On one particular day, an extra large rattrap, placed strategically under the kitchen sink in full view, added to the ambience. Everyone insisted that no rat was around to be trapped, but the device was there just as a precaution.
During peak hours, the noise level rises drastically, but no one wants to leave. Business deals are closed over bottles of wine that patrons bring with them because Doe’s doesn’t have a liquor license. New friends are made at tables placed so close together that everyone seems to be sitting in the same party.
Humble beginning
Dominick Signa Sr. and his wife, Mamie, opened the place in 1941. Italian immigrants, the Signa family moved to Greenville in 1903 to open a grocery store in the building that later became the restaurant. The family lived in a house behind the store.
Everything went well until the 1927 flood that nearly destroyed Greenville. After that, Signa did bootlegging to make money to support his family, eventually selling his 40-barrel still for $300 and a Model T Ford.
The family started out selling hot tamales, mostly to blacks who had frequented the honky-tonk in the front part of the store. Big Doe could always cook a great steak and everyone knew it, but whites who wanted to get a taste of his cooking had to go around to the back. The family still likes to refer to that as segregation in reverse.
The restaurant began to take off when a local doctor started stopping by for meals between calls. Big Doe would cook him a steak and make him eat it in the back, because the front was blacks-only. After a while, Big Doe closed the honky-tonk and focused on making the restaurant a success.
“When I was coming up, everybody here knew everybody. It was like a family and a lot of people in the community worked for daddy,” said Signa Jr. “But when the older people died, things changed over here. The younger ones don’t have the same attitude. But we’ve always been in the community and we are not going to leave.”
The honky-tonk area now is where the big grill sits. In the tradition of his father, Signa still cooks the steaks over an open flame, stopping from time to time to say hello to customers as they enter the door.
